


Night In

by DelightfulDreadful (QueSeraph)



Category: Counting Sins, nannerverse - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Power Dynamics, Rough Oral Sex, Unhealthy Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, gratuitous talk of cooking and baking, rape mention, stick is kinda a hostage how do i tag that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraph/pseuds/DelightfulDreadful
Summary: Stick doesn't get the space or privacy he needs to take care of his /needs/, so if he wants some relief, he's going to have to try to seduce Jason.
Relationships: Jason/Stick, stick/jason
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Night In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nanners (nanjcsy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Counting Sin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399269) by [DelightfulDreadful (QueSeraph)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraph/pseuds/DelightfulDreadful), [Nanners (nanjcsy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/Nanners), [QueSeraph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraph/pseuds/QueSeraph). 



Stick felt tired, but good. It had been a decently easy day, after a long week of working on renovating the crawl space walls inside the hotel. Today was an easy day, finishing a few patches from some nicks in the walls and painting them over. After that, he just had some light lawn work, but it was comfortably cool outside and he found himself humming while he worked. 

He put his and Jason’s laundry in the washer and moved to the kitchen to begin a batch of baked goods for some guests arriving to stay the next morning. He sang quietly to himself while he sorted through the cabinets, eyeing the ingredients he had and making mental note of what he might need to gather next time he visited town. 

He still had a hard time going out into town. He felt exposed and vulnerable, so distant from the world around him that he felt like an outsider visiting his old life. He did better at staying grounded since Jason had let him wear his collar outside, as long as it was well concealed under collared shirts and turtlenecks. But nonetheless, he avoided his trips to town as much as he could without raising suspicion. 

His eyes fell on a brown paper bag he’d almost forgotten about and scooped it up, quickly unfolding the curled top. He’d stashed some barely-ripe bananas inside about a week ago, and he grinned to himself when he saw they had turned a spotted brown. Overripe, but not moldy or slimy - perfect for banana bread. He set them on the counter and plucked the rest of what he needed from the pantry, thankful he had remembered to pick up chocolate chips from the store on his last trip. Semi-sweet chocolate chip banana bread was one of Stick’s favorites, and he also had enough to make up a couple of lemon meringue pies -Jason’s absolute favorite. It might even put him in a rare good mood.

He mixed enough to pour two loaves in the new bread pans Jason had given him. After dinner he could make up the pies, and between the pie and breads he would have plentiful offerings for the guests, as well as the more permanent residents of the estate.

He set the timer for just 35 minutes to start - the oven ran on the hotter side so he would toothpick check it then - and studiously washed the dishes and counters down before starting dinner preparations. He had gotten a few steaks on a great deal the other day, and while he had thought he might wait a couple days for an excuse to celebrate a little with it, well - no time like the present. 

He set them in a marinade and gathered a bag of russet potatoes, washing them in the sink before setting them in a pot to collect from as he peeled them. Jason drastically limited what kitchen tools Stick was allowed to use, at least unsupervised, but he was allowed a vegetable peeler that he used the curved tip of to pluck out the odd eye here and there. He was only allowed a butter knife for cutting, and the blunt serration was hell on cutting meats, but he was able to scallop the potatoes with a little finesse.

Scalloped potatoes and steaks would surely please Jason, and he found himself with an eager sense of anticipation for surprising him. He carefully sliced onions with some difficulty, and when the breads were done he put the potatoes in the oven to bake. 

He hadn’t made steaks in a while, but he remembered how to sear them first and started heating the pan. He was watching them so intently, trying to remember how to keep them from drying out, and he didn’t hear Jason step into the kitchen until he appeared next to him like an apparition. It startled him so badly he stumbled back, nearly knocking the pan from the stove as he went. 

“Careful Bambi, I’d hate to see this dinner hit the ground.” Jason smiled in that way he did sometimes, like he was thinking of something very funny that Stick wouldn’t like at all. 

“I’m sorry, I - I guess I just didn’t hear you, I will try to pay better attention.”

Jason ignored him and eyed the food hungrily. 

“What are we celebrating?”

Stick stepped back to the stove and covered the steaks, turning down the burner. 

“Nothing really, I just - thought it might be nice. I have scalloped potatoes in the oven, and I can make lemon meringue after dinner.”

Jason looked pleasantly surprised, and Stick’s heart squeezed in a funny way, before dropping when Jason’s face turned to something darker.

“Did you do something bad?”

“What?”

Jason took a step closer, crowding his personal space and making him swallow nervously, resisting the urge to run away.

“Did you do something naughty, and thought you could get away with it if you sucked up to me?”

Stick looked back at him with wide, watery eyes, and wrung his hands in a supplicant gesture.

“N-no! No, not at all, I don’t - I just thought it would be something nice to do, I swear!”

Jason eyed him suspiciously, looking him over for a tense moment. Stick thought he might piss himself.   
“You finished all your chores?”  
“Yes Master. Oh, no wait, the laundry would have just stopped - may I go switch it over?”

Jason still didn’t seem to quite believe him, but with a terse nod he released Stick to check the laundry. He returned to the kitchen as soon as he finished, and Jason was still there, sorting mail at the kitchen table. Stick whipped up the pie crust dough and rolled it out, draping them into their pans. He glanced back over to Jason, flicking some spam mail into the trash. He looked tired. His shirt sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, exposing a faded tattoo on his wrist that looked like it had been done in someone’s kitchen. His hair had started to grow out a little, falling in his face as he sorted through his papers. He looked...good. Really good. 

He felt a little thrill of arousal run through him. It had been a while since Jason had touched him, and he didn’t have any private time to take care of his own needs. His cock swelled at the thought, but he couldn’t even duck into the bathroom without being subject to the cameras. Jason had every inch of the house covered. 

Maybe some good food would put Jason in a good mood, and might make him want to touch him a little.

“What, um - what are you doing tonight?” Stick hated how his voice wavered when he was trying to be casual.

Jason flicked his eyes to him suspiciously again before he moved his head to look directly at him. 

“Oh, you know Pinky… the same thing we do every day. Try and take over the world,” He drawled sarcastically.

Stick laughed weakly and focused back on his cooking. He could still feel Jason’s eyes on his back like a heat. 

“Why?”

“No reason. I just - I was just wondering.”

There was another long pause on Jason’s part.

“We live together Stick, I don’t do much that you don’t see. Even when you would rather not see it.” He chuckled without humor. Stick swallowed down a little shudder.

Jason paused thoughtfully before continuing.

“What are you doing tonight, Stick?”

The potatoes were done, and he pulled the pan onto the stove. He sliced the biggest piece easily in half with a fork, the soft yellowed flesh roasted well through. 

“I um - I don’t know, after I finish cleaning up, would you maybe, want to watch a movie? Or... something.” He ended lamely, swallowing his anxiety with a dry throat.  
“The steaks are about medium-rare, is that okay?”

There was another pause, and then Jason’s voice was right behind him, nearly startling him again.

“Look at me.”

Stick looked up to him without hesitation, and Jason seemed to study his face for a moment, before his lips cracked into a wide grin, and then he started to laugh.

“Yeah, medium rare is perfect babe. Make me a plate.” He shook his head with a smile and sat back down at the table.

Stick cleared the table and made up a plate of the better-looking steak and a heap of potatoes. He set it before Jason and made himself one before joining him. 

“So uh, I get what you’re doing.”

Stick looked up at him, choking on a bite.

“Tryna wine and dine me, huh? You wanna Netflix and chill? Very smooth, you know, for you, Stick.”

Stick couldn’t meet his eyes, and he could feel his face redden.

“I didn’t - I’m not-”

“No! No I get it, huh? You’re just trying to get in my pants. You’re buttering me up in hopes of getting lucky tonight...”

Stick dropped his fork a little more than he set it down.

“No, I - I’m not - there’s nothing I’m-” He spluttered frantically, desperate to save his skin. But Jason leaned in with a mean little smile on his face.

“So tell me...how lucky are you feeling tonight?”

Stick met his eyes and held his breath. He could never quite read Jason, but he felt like every question he asked him had a distinctly right and wrong answer, and he could never quite tell which one was which. He could claim no possible ulterior motive, but would risk being called a liar, or potentially sound like he thought of him as undesirable. Or he could admit to the, well, potential hope he had in mind, and risk appearing to have tried to be evasive.

“I um...I don’t know, I thought we could have a nice night in and...yes, I like it when...you know-” He flushed bright red, as if he couldn’t embarrass himself enough.

“-but I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to push anything! I just thought we could spend some time together. After working all day. I swear!”

Jason was grinning widely, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be punished.

“We spend every damn night together dumbass. But you wanted to do something special, just ‘cause, huh? Alright, I see you - you want a date night.”

Stick stared mournfully into his plate, trying to will his eyes to stop watering.

“I - I didn’t mean to imply anything, I’m sorry, I really just - it was nice outside today and we’ve both been working a lot and keeping busy and-and -”

His voice cracked and dropped to a hoarse squeak.

In his anxious despair he didn’t even see Jason move, and he moved so quietly at that. Suddenly his strong hands were on his shoulders and he flinched, waiting for a blow.

Jason’s teeth teased his ear, and he could feel his breath on his neck. His hands slid down Stick’s arms down to his lap, and he groped him, grabbing for his crotch. Stick let out a stilted little moan at the sudden contact, his body responding enthusiastically to his touch at such a hair trigger. Jason’s voice was warm and poisonous in his ear.

“I get it. A naughty bitch like you just goes into heat sometimes and needs a little lovin’, huh?”

Stick whimpered in agreement, Jason’s hands roaming over his lap and crawling back up to his chest. Jason had fucked his mouth just a day or two before, but it had been at least a few weeks since he’d had this kind of attention. 

The oven beeped, signalling the pie crusts were done. 

Jason’s hands retreated with a low chuckle and Stick groaned at the timing. He was already achingly hard.  
Jason withdrew and Stick shook his head to try to clear it before standing awkwardly and moving back to the oven to pour the filling in before topping the meringue. He powdered the tops with a sprinkle of sugar before sliding them into the oven and setting the timer.

“Lemon meringue?” Jason quirked an eyebrow at him from his seat at the table.

“Yeah, is that okay? I also made up some chocolate chip banana bread, I think it will be good for guest tea tomorrow.”

“Good. You did well.”

Stick ducked his head shyly. His heart thumped in a funny way - he wasn’t used to Jason giving him praise.

His master rose from his seat and came to him, trapping him between the counter and his body when he caught him washing his hands again at the sink. Jason ground his hips against his ass, pushing him hard into the counter, the edge of it cutting into his thin hips painfully. He groaned when Jason bit down on the nape of his neck possessively, kissing down to the edge of his collar and tugging at it with his teeth. Stick held his breath, but still couldn’t help the whine from his throat when Jason’s hands pulled his hips back and slipped underneath the waist of his pants, pawing at him through his boxers and teasing him with a squeeze. 

Stick groaned at his grip and bucked his hips into his hand, grinding against his palm.

“Greedy thing,” Jason chuckled, and Stick flushed red in shame. 

“It - you feel good,” Stick panted. Fuck, he was so worked up already. 

“Be good and clean up, clean yourself up and we’ll have a movie night.”

Stick bit back his lust and frustration and nodded. Jason’s warm touch disappeared from him, and he took a shaky breath to steady himself. He had cleaning to do before he would get anything more. 

He scrubbed his hands through his hair. Fuck, he couldn’t even get off without Jason’s permission. But what could he do?

Master knows best. Just do what Master says, he knows what’s best for you, you don’t have to think or make decisions, just do what Master needs, just keep him happy...  
A voiceless whisper murmured in his head. He rubbed his eyes, and set a timer for the oven.  
He cleaned up the kitchen and tried not to rush himself - it wouldn’t be unlike Jason to look for a reason to punish him even after a good night. He grabbed some clean clothes from the laundry room and took a quick shower.

He closed his eyes under the hot water, a crick in his back from gardening earlier starting to ease. He washed his hair, breathing in the hot steam and trying to calm his nerves. His cock was still half hard, and he slipped a hand down to touch himself a little. Jason was presumably still in the bedroom, so for once he might not walk in on him. He rubbed the head, precum easily beading at the tip, and he smeared the pad of the thumb across the slit. 

It was impossible to remember the things he used to fantasize about, his head was filled with Jason and Charlie and nothing else. He imagined Jason was behind him, his arms wrapped around him to toy with his cock. 

He couldn’t last long, but he didn’t get very far before there was a pounding on the door, and it opened. He dropped his hands guiltily to grab the soap and rub down his body to hurry out of the shower. The shower curtain was ripped back, exposing Stick to Jason standing beside the tub with a mean grin. Stick scrambled to cover himself with his hands, awkwardly shielding himself from his penetrating gaze.

“Don’t be in here jerking off. It’s not my fault if you’re a two-pump chump. Hurry up or you won’t get lucky. I can still get plenty lucky tonight in ways you won’t enjoy at all.”

Stick nodded shakily and Jason leaned in, turning the water down to cold before he closed the curtain again. Stick felt a wave of nausea from embarrassment and anxiety, and hurried to scrub the soap off of himself under the cold water and get out. 

He didn’t have any really nice clothes, but he had a few collared shirts to look more business casual behind the desk. He pulled on a green one he suspected Jason liked and brushed his wet hair before tucking it behind his ears. He even splashed on a bit of aftershave Jason had given him and dabbed it under his jaw.

He had an anxious knot in his stomach. He’d gone on a couple dates in highschool, had a couple girlfriends, went to prom with one - the whole bit. But he hasn’t had a date since - no, he couldn’t think of her name, he winced away from the memory, like touching something hot and pulling your hand back fast.

It felt surreal to be trying to clean himself up for the closest thing to date night he’s had in years. Funnily enough, he actually felt a flutter of nervousness in the pit of his belly, like he felt when he asked Jessica Fowler to prom. It seemed ridiculous after all the death and pain and violation he’d been through since he was first lured here for a job.

He returned to the kitchen after a final once-over and checked the pie. The meringue had just started to crisp and brown at its peaks - perfect . He pulled them out and mentally designated one just for Jason, cutting into it still-hot and moving a generous slice onto a plate. He took the plate to the living space by the private rooms, where he found Jason lounging on the couch in front of the widescreen TV he’d bought after he overturned Charlie. Jason looked at him with more interest than he was expecting.

“Pies are done, I thought I’d bring you some while it’s still warm. Would you like some?”

Jason accepted the plate and Stick could tell he had done well. He sat down beside Jason, who looked down at the plate for a long moment.

“My mom used to make pies like this.”

Stick stiffened a little. Jason never talked about his previous personal life.

“Mom was always a baker, and she made pies more than cookies or whatever. She was a decent cook - I think what she actually did best was her hot chocolate. I never learned the trick to it.”

Stick was quiet, thinking. The TV chatted in the background, but neither man was paying attention.

“I think- I think hot chocolate could go well enough with lemon meringue, you know? I’m not - I can’t make it as good as your mom did, of course, but I could make some up.”

Jason seemed to think for a moment and then nodded. He reached over and patted the top of Stick’s thigh and the slighter man felt a tingle up his spine. He parted back to the kitchen, racking his brain for a good hot chocolate recipe.

When he returned with a couple of mugs, Jason accepted his with an absent-minded nod. Stick’s stomach churned while he watched him take a sip, and then look into the mug, as if he could see something in it.

“Pretty good.”

Stick sipped his, hiding his smile behind the mug. He’d spruced up a packaged mix with a little cinnamon extract, vanilla, and a careful ratio of milk with a dash of cream. 

They had a quiet moment, something heavy in the air as both of them thought of their normal lives not so long ago. It felt like centuries ago, worlds away. Remembering a life outside of the house felt like looking at a memory through a long, dark tunnel. 

Stick didn’t like dwelling on it.

“What are we watching tonight?”

Jason snapped out of it too, and grabbed the remote, switching over to a movie.

“Scream. Ever seen it?”

Stick shook his head. He never had much of a stomach for horror, but if Jason wanted his opinion, he would have asked.   
The opening scene made Stick cover his eyes right off the bat, and Jason laughed.  
“Really? This stuff scares you? You’ve seen so much worse, and this stuff is fake as hell. Look at the blood squirt!”

Stick watched it from between his fingers for only a moment before closing them again. 

“I know, I know, I don’t know why it still - it still kinda gets me, even though...well, yeah.” He squeaked, and chuckled along nervously when Jason laughed.

“Alright, alright, come here.”

Jason pulled him a little closer on the couch and pulled him down by the shoulder, resting him on his side so he was laying with his head in his lap. Stick watched the movie sideways while Jason carded his hands through his hair. He was being petted like a lapdog, but it actually felt good, and when scary things happened on screen Jason’s thighs shook underneath him as he laughed. It happened enough that it kept him awake when his eyes started to droop, Jason’s hands in his hair and his warm lap beneath him lulling him to sleep. 

Halfway through, Jason shifted and had Stick sit up. “My leg is falling asleep. How about you go make some popcorn, do the whole bit.”

Stick rubbed his eyes and padded back to the kitchen, bringing Jason’s empty plate back to the sink and making up some microwave popcorn. He returned with a large bowl of it, and almost dropped it when Jason grabbed him, pulling him onto his lap between his legs and winding his arms around him. He plucked popcorn from the bowl on Stick’s lap and watched the rest of the movie over his head. Once Stick calmed his breath, he was able to enjoy the mystery in the story, and it did help lighten the scary stuff when Jason shook with laughter at it all around him. 

He made it until the end, when suddenly the men on screen started looking too much like Jason and Charlie. Stick squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on counting Jason’s heartbeats through his chest pressed to his back.

Jason’s hands wandered to his thighs, rubbing them absentmindedly. Stick’s stomach flipped a little, his arousal that he had pushed onto the backburner flaring back up way too easily. He couldn’t see Jason’s face to try to judge his mood, but he could hear his breath behind his ears, and his hands crawled up his chest, feeling him through his thin shirt. When the hands dropped down to his lap and started groping him through his pants, he struggled not to pant. Just as he was getting quite worked up, Jason’s hands left to return to his chest, tweaking his nipples through the coarse cloth of his shirt. He couldn’t help the squeak he let out, and he tipped his head back onto Jason’s shoulder. It exposed his neck to the other man, who was quick to claim it hungrily, sucking punishing hickies into the tender skin and teasing it between his teeth until Stick was shuddering. He could still hear the dreadful ending of the movie above his own whimpers, and the juxtaposition of violence and intimacy was unfortunately fitting for the two.

Jason pushed Stick off the couch and down to his knees. He shoved his pants open enough to free his cock, which he fisted with a groan. He gave himself a few pumps before grabbing Stick’s hair to pull him closer. He pressed the head of his cock against Stick’s lips, his free hand gripping his jaw and pinching to force his mouth open. Stick opened his mouth obediently and took him between his lips, shyly licking and sucking the head before he worked his way deeper.

Jason fucked his mouth to the final bloody moments of the film. When he came, he shoved his head down to force his cock into his throat, letting Stick choke on it so his throat spasmed around him as he orgasmed. 

“Fuck that was good...fuuuck…” Jason hissed out, catching his breath. His fingers dragged through his hair again and then gripped it, pulling his head back, seeing to consider him for a moment. Stick swallowed a gag and held very still, panting a little as he caught his breath too. Jason’s broad hands cradled his face with surprising tenderness, and swiped away the tears pooling out of his eyes with his thumbs.

“Alright, yeah, you win little one, I’ll give it to you.”

Stick swallowed nervously. He was horny as hell and dying for more touch, but he had learned the hard way many times that he just had to let Jason have his way with him. 

Jason seemed eager to get going again though, and practically dragged him to the bedroom. When they got there he was pushed onto the bed, where he bounced off the mattress with a squeak. He laid back for a moment, closing his eyes and relishing in the comfort of the mattress. Jason still rarely allowed him to sleep in bed, and the floor wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the memory foam bullshit Jason had splurged on with Charlie’s money.

Jason pulled his shirt off, exposing dozens more tattoos to the dim room light. He joined Stick on the bed, crawling over him and caging him in with his body. He didn’t often really kiss Stick, not on the lips, but he was happy to ravage the skin on his neck until he was keening with need. Jason forced his fingers underneath the collar and clenched his fist, pulling it tight around Stick’s thin neck and dragging his head up off the sheets.

“Take off your clothes, and convince me you deserve it.”

Stick swallowed hard and nodded, and Jason released him. Stick pulled his shirt off over his head clumsily, lacking the ease Jason had in his motions. He unbuckled his pants and shimmied them off, hesitating self-consciously before Jason gave him a look and he stripped himself bare. Jason’s cock was a bit longer and substantially thicker, a handsome cock between his legs, and both knew it. His master laid back on the bed, undoing his pants and pushing them down enough to expose him. He lazily stroked his cock, slowly bring it back to interest at the prospect of fucking the nervous man in front of him.

“Come here.” His voice never lacked a commanding edge, and Stick crawled forwards, leaning in to nuzzle his cock. Jason pressed his thickening cock against the side of Stick’s jaw, urging Stick forwards again with a hand in his hair until he was worshipping his cock with tentative licks and kisses.  
Jason had to hold his breath for a minute before letting it go slowly, the image of Stick’s lips kissing the head of his cock and his eyes opening to look up at him wide...it was more exciting than he thought it could be. Stick was excited too; he could see him pressing his hips down to the mattress, unable to resist the urge to hump against the soft sheets a little. Jason grinned wide at his hopeless little bitch, and when Stick’s big eyes widened in fear he felt himself only stiffen further.  
For a moment he had a thought, of gripping him and raping him, making him sob and beg him to stop. He would only be giving him what he wanted anyways, right? And the thought of making Stick regret deeply seeking his affections made a greedy lust well up inside of him. He knew he could make Stick cry on his cock, make him scream and beg and plead for mercy, only to grant him none. But Stick had been sweet tonight, and the possessive streak in him actually wanted to pleasure him, see if he would moan his name as sweetly as he screamed it. To be the center of Stick’s twisted little world, to be the source of his every pain and every pleasure, it had an appeal he couldn’t deny.   
He fisted a bottle of lube from his nightstand drawer and waved it at Stick, who eyed it with a hopeful fear.   
“Turn around.”  
He pushed him down into the mattress, his face buried in the sheets and his ass vulnerable in the air. He reached between his legs for a moment, giving his cock a few strokes and dragging the tips of his nails along his balls, listening to the muffled whines and whimpers from beneath him. He quickly grew tired of toying with him though, and slicked a few fingers with lube. He pressed the pad of a finger against him, slicking his entrance before pressing in a finger. He worked it in and out until it moved with ease, and he grinned when Stick moaned his displeasure when he took it away. He slicked two fingers this time and slid them into him, working them in and out a few times before he started scissoring them inside of him, opening up his tight little ass without much mercy. Stick’s thighs were shaking with the third finger, and he was pressing back greedily for more. Jason grinned and slipped his pants off the rest of the way, slicking up his cock before lining himself up with his entrance. He pushed in, groaning as he pressed into that tight heat. He was quick to work up to fucking him hard, his fingers digging into his hips to drive into him hard. Stick was quickly making the most pathetic little sounds, and Jason freed a hand to grab his hair, yanking it back to pull his face from the mattress and hear his whimpers and moans. Stick shimmied a shaking hand between his thigh and he gripped himself, fisting his cock while Jason plowed him into the bed. He felt feverishly sensitive, his long-simmering need making every thrust feel ecstatic. He couldn’t form coherent thoughts of what he wanted, but his mouth on it’s own accord asked for more, more, more, harder, harder, please!  
Stick was arching his back and pressing against him, making his thrusts harder and sharper as he snapped his hips against his thin ass. Stick was panting little whines and begging him for harder, and he was happy to oblige him. Jason fisted his hair and pulled hard, forcing his head back so the sounds he was driving out of him weren’t buried into the sheets. He’d worked out the easy one in Stick’s throat only a few minutes prior, and Jason had little doubt he’d have the stamina to screw Stick’s brains out before the night was through.

Stick could feel an urgent need to cum, his balls aching as Jason’s cock lit his insides up with pleasure. He had never been so sensitive, his whole world suddenly centered on the feeling of the cock driving deep into him before pulling back enough to tug at his rim. Jason was angling his hips enough to rub against his prostate almost hard enough to hurt, and his whole body ached with a need for release. 

“Master, master, please, please, please-” he chanted desperately, desperate in his need, and Jason shoved his hips forwards harder, setting a punishing rhythm.

Stick finally came with a sob, his hand wedged between his thighs squeezing his cock. Jason fucked him through the aftershocks without slowing down, driving his sensitivity to beyond pleasurable and then painful.

Stick came underneath him and Jason groaned as his lithe body spasmed, milking his cock as if begging for his release deep inside of him. He drove him through it, fucking him senseless through every shiver and moan, but Jason wasn’t done, and now he intended to savor the feeling of driving deep into his boy. After Stick moaned out his title and mewled with pleasure, he worked his way back up to fucking him through his oversensitivity, listening to his moans and whimpers as he fucked him well beyond his release. Jason snapped his hips, burying him inside the tight little ass he was presented with, and he shoved his face back into the mattress.

Stick couldn’t breathe, his face stuffed into the mattress and held down firmly under Jason’s strong hand, and his every perception narrowed until all he could feel was the cock splitting him open. He was sore and exhausted, his nerves still on fire, but it felt so good, he started already getting hard again. His consciousness slowed and narrowed the longer he went without proper oxygen, and by the time Jason came he was on the edge of unconsciousness. His traitorous cock disagreed, but he gasped for air as Jason drove into him the last few times. His hips stuttered and then ground against his ass, and he could feel him pumping his release deep inside of him. When Jason pulled away, he couldn’t help the soft sigh when he felt empty and sore. He was still vaguely horny, but his weariness from the day was suddenly catching up to him. Jason laid back and pulled him into his arms, and he blinked sleepily against his chest.   
“What do we say?”  
“Thank you, Master,” Stick murmured. Jason could tell he was already falling asleep, and he felt himself not far behind. He worried his lip for a moment between his teeth, considering, before he leaned over to set his alarm for the next morning, and settled into bed with his boy. He supposed he could let him stay, at least just for this night. He flicked off his bedside light and closed his eyes in the dark. He could still feel Stick’s breathing, slowing and evening as he slipped into sleep. It filled him with an unexpected pleasure, the feeling of accomplishment after a good night with his boy. He didn’t let himself overthink it, and instead enjoyed the warmth of the thin young man curled around him, and closed his eyes to embrace the veil of sleep.


End file.
